Cannibal Unicorn
by Messiah's Scourge
Summary: ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
1. Prelude

First attempt here Wish me luck This is simply intended to be comedic, and if you're under the age of 12 or 14 maybe, don't read. You likely wouldn't fully understand most of the references made, and that kinda defeats the purpose of being here. That being said, if you enjoy dark and filthy humor, read on. 


	2. Chapter 1: Self Destructo Bust

Chapter 1:  
Young Harry wasn't quite sure what he had expected when he opened his eyes in the morning, or at least what he assumed was the morning (Circadian rhythm becomes slightly hazy when living in a cupboard). Cerainly he hadn't expected when he opened his eyes to find the void of eternal nothingness staring back at him. Can you imagine nothingness? Most can't. Not white light or darkness, actual nothingness. Most who see it either claw out their eyes, or go insane; sometimes both. Harry just stared. The void stared back. Harry kept staring. The void kept staring back. Harry stared. The void stared. Finally a thin, trembling voice whimpered "Stop it, you're making me uncomfortable..."

Suck it, Nietzsche.

Harry assumed that it would be a regular morning of starvation and child abuse, but that all seemed to change when he picked up a letter from beneath the mail slot in the front door. "Hey Uncle Vernon, I just got this letter from 'Hogwarts'. Do you know anything about this?" "WHAT", exploded the gravity-friendly man, his face in a wonderful imitation of Bob from Veggietales, "You won't end up a freak like your parents! You can't go, and that's that!", shouted the corpulent Divorce Lawyer. (while he wasn't ACTUALLY a divorce lawyer, I'm perfectly willing to use the occupation based around ripping apart families as an insult.)"It says that this is a boarding school. You won't see me for a whole nine months, Uncle Vernon." "...Fine. You have a deal."

You see, for our protagonist, life isn't always predictable. It wasn't predictable for our handsome young protagonist when he was attacked at a young age by an anorexic skinhead with a snake fetish named Mouldywarts or something. It wasn't predictable when he discovered his ranged weapon of choice: Grimthorne, the death scream of a galaxy far, far away(it happened a long time ago), packaged into what looked like a black B.C. Rich Warlock, capable of driving its victims into near insanity with its evil wail. It certainly wasn't predictable when he opened the front door to find a seven-foot tall Ron Jeremy looking troglodyte wearing a coat of dead animals- with their heads STILL ATTACHED. metal. Our dimwitted but attractive hero, however, could only think of one person even approaching the height of this gargantuan monstrosity. "Yao Ming?" "Nonsense, boy, Yao Ming looks nothing LIKE Ron Jeremy!" Harry quietly noted, "A self-aware Ron Jeremy-looking troglodyte, then.", ignoring all conventional grammar rules, because proper sentence structure isn't METAL enough! "I'm here to take you to get your school supplies, Harry." At this moment, our hero showed signs of maturity and growth, asking the logical question in this situation-"Why should I trust you?" "I have a flying motorcycle, Harry!", replied the homeless Danny Trejo clone. Instantly our ironically largely hairless protagonist made his decision. "...Deal." So much for growth and maturity.

-  
(Time skip: 9 months)  
On the train ride home from his first year, we observe our protagonist talking to his henchmen, Ron Weatherby and Hermyowny Gangrene, or something. "Anyways, Headmaster Dumb Old Door wants to keep it under wraps that I just clubbed a teacher to death with a guitar in cold blood." explained our young protagonist to his henchmen, a beaver furry and a cheeto-dust haired freckle collector, while absentmindedly twirling his new weapon, a flaming pair of dragon dildo nunchucks. He'd ordered them instantly as soon as an old and wrinkly Danny Devito named Griphook had told him that he was rich. Needless to say, it was money well spent. "It seems strange that Daddy Albus would let you be in Hufflepuff, given that he paid us to be friends with you, Harry.", muttered the Beaver. "WHAT", pierced the air, surprisingly from the cheetobeast. "Well, where was my cut" At this moment, our resident edgy emo kid cut in(no pun intended), attempting to calm them by reminding his evil minions that it didn't matter who stole Ron's cut and spent it on coke and hookers, what mattered was that somebody else was paying his employees, and that was efficiency at its best. Do you know how hard it is to find people who are willing to fight superheroes with plot armour at odd hours in exchange for minimum wage? Good luck. "It still feels unethical to me", stated the Beaver simply, while gazing out the window, only to be cut down instantly. "First of all, ethics are a method of thought control, second, that teacher could have been some guy who maybe probably killed some people a decade ago or so, and fourth, stop staring out the window dramatically, you're not a character in some stupid fan fiction written by a bored high school-age kid with too much time on their hands and hates bad writing, thus making him therefore all the more hypocritical.", our protagonist replied, ignoring the problems associated with run-on sentences because proper sentence structure isn't METAL enough. "Uh, Harry, what happened to number three?", yelled the cheeto-weasel jubilantly. "SHUT UP RON, BEFORE I SHOVE YOUR HEAD SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT YOU BECOME A ONE-MAN HUMAN CENTIPEDE!"


	3. Chapter 2: Find Your Own Way Home

Chapter 2 Life was good for our young protagonist, with his relatives having left him alone for the whole summer- not an easy feat, especially when living in the same house, but when there's a will, funeral, and obituary, there's a way. Then again, who wouldn't fake their own death in a house fire and move to Brazil when staring down the end of a flaming pair of dragon dildo nunchucks?(In a purely platonic way, of course, they only saw the Dursleys as friends and nothing more.) Oh yes, life was good, mused our protagonist while staring at the ceiling in his new apartment. The one hangup with the whole operation was that apparently Peter Dinklage had suffered through having his precious bodily fluids drained by Russian cold war technology and now resembled an empty Caprisun package. Not even being told that he couldn't go back to Hogwarts snapped Harry out of the shock of seeing a short, wrinkly, albino Legolas. The real problem came when it was time to ignore Santa's little helper and run into a brick wall in the month of September, as is the wizarding custom for children. Five minutes later found Harry and Weaselby in a stolen car, flying to Scotland, after getting fed up with the magical wall's tech support hotline repeatedly putting them on hold. It only took them a few hours before they were sitting in a broken down stolen car without liscences, inside a forest, because the pumpkin-spiced genius to Harry's right wasn't even useful enough to crash the car through the stained glass behind the staff table in time for the welcome feast. "It could have gone worse, at least there aren't any spiders..." supplied the human safety vest rather UNhelpfully. "Speak of the devil, you unhelpful jack-o-lantern of a sidekick, we've been found!" pointed out our calm and mentally stable hero. "Wait", Harry realized, "They've got eight eyes each and they've been living in total darkness for fifty years, why don't we just Lumos the bastards and run?" A resounding spidery "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN THEY KNOW!" was heard throughout the forest.

The consequences were severe. Or, at least, they would have been, had Harry not displayed some quick thinking skills that kept him from being expelled, by shoving his dragon dildo nunchucks in the headmaster's face.(In a platonic way, of course, the nunchucks thought of Dumbledore as just a friend and nothing more.)Harry had, of course been forced to keep them away from Snape for now lest they start a grease-fire. Oh well, it was just the professor's fault for not fireproofing a goddamn potions lab. Instead, the detention was helping kill unicorns with Filch the caretaker(creepy janitor dude) of the castle. Apparently Dumbledore wasn't just super old NATURALLY. Whoopsie. Harry found it just tasteless, killing unicorns with a crossbow. He was a squib, he should have known about handguns at least. The trip itself was pretty uneventful, aside from a few scuttling noises and screams of "OH GOD, HE'S HERE! RUN!" After a while, they found a silver trail, and it led to... a unicorn eating another unicorn. metal. What made it more metal was when the unicorn (the one eating the other, not the one being eaten, duh)saw our jolly little troupe and charged straight at them, impaling filthy Filchy and stopping at our protagonist. Suddenly, it transformed into a tall, thin Egyptian pharaoh, before speaking in a deep, rumbling voice. "I am Nyarlathotep, the crawling chaos, spawn of Azathoth, Ahtu, the black wind, the dark demon, the dweller in darkness...(9000 years later)...the bloody tongue, the masked messenger, and the father of all bats." He cut himself off immediately after noticing that his audience had fallen asleep. Shaking them awake, he continued on. "My point is, I'm an outer god with the power to shape-shift and it's my job to make you awesome enough to kill that albino snake-fucker who killed your parents." At this, Harry's head snapped to attention, asking how such a feat was possible. "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhcrawlingchaos."


	4. Chapter 3: Don't Stop Now

Chapter 3.

Sanity is a fickle thing, as not everyone has theirs anymore, and sometimes all it takes is one bad day to realize you don't need it anymore. Nyarlathotep, for example had one thousand forms, and each one of them was capable of driving a regular human to insanity. Though, our protagonist had been there for quite a while before he had met the crawling chaos. In fact, insanity has never been bad. It's just being a little "special", in the most entertaining way possible for everyone else. If anything, insanity is enlightenment because suddenly you're relying on your own knowledge and not what other people have told you. Suddenly you realize how skewed your world view is. But I digress. The reason for this monologue, aside from exposition, was to pass the time while our perfectly mentally stable protagonist waited outside the house of Nyarlathotep, somewhere in Egypt. Apparently, at some point, He'd seen young Harry's nunchucks and had wanted to "take them out for a spin with a couple friends." Harry had expected carnage and destruction to follow, but all he could hear was screams and groans. Maybe the house was indestructible, it would make sense for the house of an ancient chaos god. The house remained standing even though it was shaking like a magnitude 7 earthquake, setting off a magnitude 3 or 4 earthquake near the surrounding houses. After what seemed like hours but was probably days(time is tricky with chaos gods), Nyarlathotep emerged from the front door covered in blood and sweat. "Uh, sorry Harry, I didn't mean to keep you waiting so long, I was training hard with your toy. That thing could be a weapon!", rumbled the crawling chaos. "Uh, sir, master, whatever you want me to call you, those WERE weapons.", came the slow response of our thoroughly disgusted protagonist, before spotting a group of spheres caked in some smelly brown substance floating out of the front door, followed by a writhing mass of tentacles, then a literal river of lava. This was quickly explained by the enigmatic pharaoh. "Oh, you haven't met my friends... these are Yog-Sothoth, Azathoth, and Kaajh'Kaalbh, respectively. They'd shake your hand, but none of them have any. That being said, you'd be surprised what they can do with what they DO have..." Quickly the slightly aroused but mostly horrified hero scanned the premises for a bottle of Clorox or Windex, anything to wash away the mental image of what had just happened, but to no avail. It seemed that the chaos gods weren't in the habit of cleaning their filthy windows, but maybe that was for the best. He would've hated to have actually seen them in the act. Regardless, our pharaoh friend took the opportunity to grab Harry's wallet to find...three Zimbabwean dollars. Fuck. Harry then took Nyarlathotep's distraction as an opportunity to take the pharaoh's wallet. He noticed that it was the same model as his own. He opened it up and saw three Zimbabwean dollars. Just like his. Maybe they had more in common than they thought. He then realized that he hadn't ever seen the pharaoh carry a wallet. Maybe he kept it in his loincloth. When you can't afford socks, you stuff your undergarments with Zimbabwean dollars, because it's cheaper. That was a good idea. An idea that the totally confident and secure protagonist was sure to use in the VERY near future, for a VERY long time. Nyarlathotep was still distracted, but now pondering whether or not Zimbabwean dollars were cheaper than paper. In the end, he decided to leave the question unanswered, before noticing that the sun had gone down and everyone was gone. "Oh well, I guess I can just go and buy myself one quarter of a glass of water with my three Zimbabwean dollars.", muttered the shape-shifter, reaching into his loincloth for his newly acquired wallet, but finding empty air instead. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"


	5. Chapter 4: Rocket Queen

Chapter 4:

Back at Hogwarts for these few days that our protagonist, we see a peculiar sight- the headmaster had rather relied upon the chosen one NOT dying, supposedly, and now had been forced to begin training the marshmallow known as Longbottom (giggity). That could wait, however. Right now, he had resurrected the caretaker and was giving him a piece of his di- un I mean mind, shoving the elder wand and Resurrection stone back into his assho-pockets. To respect the privacy of the two... talking, all of the portraits had left to go visit their other portraits in the castle. Meanwhile, young Harry had decided that it was time to make his way back to the dank and drafy scottish castle to maybe seduce his DADA teacher into giving him a passing mark. The man did have stunning teeth, after all. The problem was competing with his henchmen. He could order them to stop, but he wasn't paying them anyways, so they likely wouldn't listen. Suddenly, our hero's hand flew to his belt, where he made a realization about how he would accomplish his goal.

Harry walked confidently into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on a Friday night, and moaned at least this loud: "AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" Professor Lockhart, being the responsible and hardworking teacher he was, ran out of his office to investigate the noise. He, unfortunately ran headfirst into his least responsible and hardworking student. In doing so, however, he felt a sizable crotch bulge. Looking down, he saw three slips of purple paper sticking out of his students waistband and fly. "Enjoying the view, professor? I've been a very naughty student, Gilderoy, please punish me any way you see fit..." At this, Gilderoy Lockhart ran away into his office screaming like a little girl(but sadly, not one of those little girls with high t) back into his office where he considered tendering his resignation, before collecting himself and stepping out of his office to see if he had just been hallucinating. He instantly saw his student still standing seductively, but he had now tucked the bottom of his shirt into the collar like Britney Spears. Our favourite Defence teacher gather his and said in a calm but slightly shaky voice that if he wanted a punishment so much, he could write lines. "Oh, I have a better idea,how do you feel about these ramming into you?" asked the failing stud-ent, holding up his nunchucks. Lockhart backed away instantly, mumbling about how those would never fit in his mouth. "Oh, who said anything about your mouth?" For the second time that day, the portraits had to find another place to stay.

The next morning, all of the headmaster's portraits returned to their normal places, before instantly pitching a trauma support group to Dumbledore. "Oh, also, the Potter boy is back, and he's banging your DADA teacher." noted one of the portraits. "Well then, I'll just have to give him some incentive to stay here from now on. I'll be right back from St. Mungo's."

Harry Potter was confused when he was called to the headmaster's office(well, not REALLY, but it makes for good dramatic tension). Opening the doors to the office, he saw two middle-aged adults covered in blood, wearing bondage gear. "Um, sir, why do you have Neville's parents in bondage gear?" The headmaster quickly and concisely explained that Harry and Neville had been switched at birth and these were in fact, his parents. "BullSHIT, Dumbledore! Everyone always tells me that I have my mother's eyes, and this lady clawed her eyes out! How am I supposed to have my mother's eyes unless she has eyes? Also, this guy looks NOTHING me! He looks like Neville put on weight and gave up on life- well he looks exactly like an older Neville, but you're missing my point!" He stormed out of the office, leaving Dumb-ledore to sigh in resignation. "Well then, Phineas, send in the Longbottom boy."


	6. Chapter 5: I Eat Brains

**Haven't uploaded for a couple weeks, might not for another few, who knows? You may have noticed that each chapter is named after a bitchin' rock song from various awesome bands . If you can guess any of the bands, congratulations, feel free to leave a review telling me(I'm just desperate for reviews, to be perfectly honest). Here's the new chapter.**

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After the stunt in the headmaster's office, Harry decided that it would be prudent to visit the active lawmakers in this lawless wasteland known as the wizarding world. After all, meeting the corrupt troglodytes that he would be bribing would be plenty beneficial, considering that he had money out the ass. Escaping the castle was surprisingly simple. He walked out.

With a goal in mind, he ran into the forest to find the Fjord Anglia(Not having the money to buy an ACTUAL Ford, they'd gone for the Norwegian copy). Funnily enough, he found his ride in the collective bellies of a bunch of black skeleton horses. This was, of course, unfamiliar to him, because HOW THE HELL WOULD THEIR GASTROINTESTINAL SYSTEMS WORK? ALL OF THEIR STOMACH ACIDS WOULD JUST FALL OUT! DON'T TELL ME THAT THEY JUST SHIT OUT CAR CHUNKS! Anyway, tangent aside, our hero decided that the appropriate punishment was to fly into the Ministry of Magic on one of these cute little failed skele-gro experiments, after all, an eye for an eye, right?

Making his way in the building, our young protagonist studied the layout. Everything was covered in gold, and there was a giant statue blatantly being displayed showing wizard superiority or whatever made of gold. (Note: of course wizards were superior, they did battle with giant wooden dildoes!) In any case, it was nice to see that their tax dollars were being spent well. Up ahead, there was a single fellow letting people in at what looked like a toll booth. When Harry approached the man, he was immediately asked to forfeit any weapons on him and pay a toll of five Galleons. As Harry had forgotten to pack his Spanish three-mast boats that morning, he asked politely if the dumb shit could kindly fuck off, because he was talking to the goddamn boy-who-lived. Apparently, that wasn't valid, because Harry wasn't admitted until he pulled out his wand(not that kind, ya perv) and threatened to eat the guard's brains like ystein Aarseth did to Pelle Ohlin if he wasn't let through. Walking through, he came to a large golden door with "Minister" written on it, he came face to face with Al Jourgensen. "Al Jourgenson?", muttered our not at all confused protagonist. Suddenly, our protagonist realizeed why it was called the Ministry. Suddenly, a Godzillash (Imagine Godzilla with a chainsaw for a left hand and a double-barreled shotgun, like Ash from the Evil Dead) burst through the roof. Apparently he had gotten bored with Tokyo and heard that One Direction was in town. Honestly, Harry couldn't blame them. The other wizards didn't share his sentiments, however, and began running around like scared chickens without their heads cut off(because they could still see and were being killed by the Godzillash, not blood loss from decapitation). Silently, Al Jourgensen motioned for the Savior of Uncivilized Society to follow him, leading him to a garage on street level in which there was a heavily hot-rodded car. On the bumper, Harry read a sticker that said "Jesus was here". Interesting. Finally, Harry had a thought. "Mr. Jourgensen, why aren't we saving the civilans?" At this, he was treated to a prolonged silence as Al Jourgensen attempted to start the car, before noticing a sudden purr(from the engine, not Al Jourgensen, he's not David Draiman), leaving an uncomfortable silence to be broken and a voice to shout into the sky "BECAUSE FUCK 'EM!"

Oh yes, they would get along just fine.

The ride back to Hogwarts was uneventful, but still totally bitchin'. This was made so by the fabulous car's interior, speed, and amazing sound system. So THIS was where the taxes were going. Harry didn't even feel like eating brains anymore... much. Regardless, they made it back in record time.

Once they got back, however, it was a different story. Dumbledore was so terrified by the thought of having to train Neville Longbottom that he right then and there decided to put a tracking bracelet onto Harry's right arm, which was promptly broken by a single flex of Harry's VERY muscular wrist. Oh, this would be a long year.


End file.
